Constants and Variables
by Ryzi
Summary: "When two constants come together, the only variable is the outcome." Reader x Booker ((rating will change))
1. Subject to Change

_A/N_: Hiya out there readers! This is a new series called Constants and Variables. Hopefully You all enjoy it and understand whats going on!

Also! The Verb tenses to change alot in this one (you'll see why). enjoy!

* * *

"I raise you fifty." You declared lowly, dropping the bills on the table and bringing your gaze up to your opponent.

"…I…Ms. (surname) I already owe you enough don't I?" He gulped.

"Well you should have thought about that before gambling away your life savings Mr. Johnson." A smile graced your ruby red lips as you laid down your cards, another winning hand, "I expect you pay off that debt by the end of the month. If you don't…well…I'm sure we can come to an agreement."

The man shakily rose and left the back room of the bar, you grabbed the wad of cash from the center of the table and counted your earnings, yes this would be enough for rent, groceries, to pay your guard, and perhaps some left over for a treat. This was your life; you were a "Shark", a debt collector. You lent out cash to gambling addicts, watched them lose it all, and then asked for it back, with interest. Most of your clients couldn't pay you back, which left you with a nice array of "compensation items". Jewelry from wives, stolen radios, watches, anything you believed would satisfy the debt.

You were leaving the casino like you owned the place. A strong hand tapped your shoulder; you turned to see a bulky man, probably in his forties, behind you.

"Evening ma'am." He spoke gruffly, "Need an escort?"

"Oh no. I already have one." You smiled; the man roughly grabbed your arm.

"I _insist_."

* * *

"AUGH!" You awaken from the nightmare with a scream and instinctively feel your right side, "_Right…that was 1908…4 years ago…_." You wipe the sleep from your eyes and look around at your small apartment, the clock next to your bed reads 10:50am.

"Shoot!" You declare to yourself, "I forgot the alarm again…" You fling the sheets off of your bed and run to the small bathroom in your apartment, quickly washing off your face and changing into your uniform. You dash out the door, locking it behind you and nearly trip into the lobby.

"Late again (name)?" The landlord laughs, you force a guilty smile and pace out the front door, your heels clacking loudly against the steps outside.

You quickly walk down the sidewalk to the trolley-stop and wait, tapping an impatient foot against the pavement. You glance at the clock next to the tracks. 10:55, it takes an hour for the trolley to reach your next stop, you look down the tracks to see the electric railcar bustle to the platform. As soon as the brakes screech to a stop you hop onto the railcar along with a few other passengers and were off.

The wind feels good as it rushes past you; the soft chatter around you is soothing and almost has you forget that you're on the verge of being late for work. You definitely prefer this life over your old one. You look out the open window at the buildings and people passing by, the sun warming your arms as you lean over the windowsill. Nothing is going to ruin this day, even if you're now probably late.

* * *

The trolley slows to a stop in front of the hospital; you stroll off and into the large building. Past the double doors, doctors scurry across the pristine floors, clipboards in hand, and apathetic looks on their faces. You walk up to the front desk to the secretary.

"Cutting it close today (name)." She scolds, not looking up from her papers.

"Yeah. I had a nightmare." You try to excuse yourself.

"Excuses, excuses"

You huff and turn on a heel, casually making your way to your station. This is your life now, a nurse in a large hospital, tending to patients, filing the occasional paper, assisting doctors, something much tamer and safer than before.

The outpatient beds are nearly empty today, only a few are occupied since those beds have curtains hanging around them. You watch as some of your co-workers stroll about laxly from bed to bed, a few with coffee in their hands. Yes, today is going to be nice and easy.

"Ah, (name)?" One of the nurses asks as she walks up to you, "You…have a patient request…" She finishes, looking just as puzzled as you and points to a bed in the far right corner of the room. You just nod and swiftly pace to the bed.

"Won, wins, will win." A male voice chirps. You raise a brow and look over the man. He is dressed formally, his ginger hair is slicked back cleanly, and his hands are folded on his lap, "My sister believes that you cannot change the inevitable."

"Because you cannot." A female voice seems to echo from the next bed over, she looks identical to the male, down to the clothes, the only difference being she has a skirt while he has slacks.

"Excuse me?" You purse your lips in confusion and look between the twins.

"I do believe we have found the one—"

"Or will find the one." The female seems to correct her brother sharply.

"Hm, no. This is it. The one."

"Excuse me." You raise your voice, catching the attention of the two "patients", "I believe you are looking for the sanatorium, which is in the other wing of the hospital. I will gladly escort you if you so desire."

"Ah, but before you do," The male twin starts, "Answer me this. When you add a constant—"

"And another constant—"

"What do you get?"

You shake your head and furrow your brow, confused at the question, asking it again in your thoughts.

"Um…A…constant?" You answer quizzically.

"See brother?" The female chimes up.

"I disagree; the only outcome is a variable."

"I think _you _need the sanatorium more than I." She states, rising to her feet, patting the sheets off out of courtesy.

You stand there, utterly baffled at what the two were blathering on about.

"_What an odd pair_" You ponder, letting the twins finish their conversation.

"—but enough about who's right or wrong, she's the one, end of story." The male turn to you and pulls out an envelope from his breast pocket and holds it out to you. You hesitantly take the envelope and look at it, your name is written on the front in fancy script, you flip it over and open up the flap. Inside you find two tickets for the airship, a certificate stating you won an "all-expenses-paid" trip to the floating resort city of Columbia, and a note. You unfold the paper, it reads:

_(name),_

_ You (were, are, will be) part of a change. My sister (did, does, will) not believe me when I (told, tell, will tell) her you (were, are, will be) important. Even if we (were, are, will be) one in the same person. You (had, have, will have) a small frame of opportunity when it counts, make use of it. Remember, __when two constants come together, the only variable is the outcome__._

_ Sweet Dreams,_

_ R. Lutece_

"What?" You look up to find the Lutece twins gone, "Odd pair." You mutter to yourself before turning to tend to other patients and go about your regular duties.

* * *

"Nine o' clock; see you!" You bid farewell to your coworkers and head back to the front desk, the hospital had quieted down and the only noise is the secretary typing away on the typewriter.

"I'm requesting a week-long vacation, starting tomorrow." You state confidently to the secretary who just glares at you.

"Why?" She asks and resumes typing up the daily reports.

"Because I haven't taken a vacation since I started working here three years ago, and just last week you had me on double-shifts every day."

"Your paycheck." She sasses back and rolls her eyes as you triumphantly leave.

Once outside you look up to the cloudless sky at the floating lights of the city up above then close your eyes and sigh, recalling your knowledge of the city.

* * *

It was ten years ago when the city was launched into the skies. Four innovators with the help of one of the brightest physicists the country could offer created the floating resort of Columbia. It was said to be a flying paradise, people from all over paid outrageously to spend even a day up in the clouds. You had even heard of people moving up into the sky. At one point in your past life you considered spending a week or two up there when the city made its route over yours, but you had debts to collect and people to rob. You had a few "friends" who had gone up though and said that it was like nothing they had ever seen before.

"Well of course, have you ever been in the sky?" You would always laugh in reply.

* * *

But now, you are going to be up there for a week, for free! You giggle to yourself and skip to the trolley stop, singing cheerful tunes as you wait. The night is still as lively as ever, and a part of you has the urge to go out and exploit people for all they're worth.

"No…" You remind yourself, bringing a hand to your right side, "Not again."

The trolley rolls up to the stop and you step on, sitting next to a random person.

"Nice evening, isn't it?" He mentions to you, his voice striking a familiar chord, "Are you headed home?"

You turn your head to see the male Lutece smiling slightly in your direction.

"Actually, yes." You confirm, brushing off some imaginary dust from your uniform, "Thank you for the tickets."

"They are yours anyways."

"Or will be." You hear his female counterpart chime.

"_Oh no._" You mentally prepare yourself for the banter to come.

But it never does, once again the two seem to vanish into thin air. The bell on the railcar chimes, signaling your stop. You depart the vehicle and practically skip back to your apartment.

"You seem awfully cheery." The landlord smiles as you dance into the lobby; a few other residents look at you as if you were mad.

"Luck was on my side today! I got two tickets for an-expenses-paid trip to Columbia!" If anyone was trying to ignore you, they weren't now.

"Wow. Two?! How'd you manage that one?" Your neighbor asks as she rocked her newborn baby in her arms.

"Just…luck." You'd rather not say "_Oh just some odd gentleman who spoke in riddles gave them to me_".

"Wow…So…do you 'ave a 'special someone', whose gonna get the other one?" The landlord laughs as he softly elbows your side.

"Ah…well…There aren't any dates on them, so maybe I'll just go again." You watched his expression fall slightly, "But I need to pack my things for tomorrow. Good night everyone." You bid farewell and walked up to your apartment.

* * *

As you lay down for bed, thoughts were swimming in your mind, keeping you awake. You stare out the window and smile, just thinking of all the things you were going to do up in the sky. Your eyelids begin to grow heavier as they close, but not for long it seems.

* * *

A bright white light erupted in your room and opens up and revealed a group of girls smothering something in the water. You watched the scene before you unfold; soon the girls began to vanish, one by one. You found yourself drawn to this portal of sorts as you slowly trudge towards the light.

"_You (had, have, will have) a small frame of opportunity when it counts, make use of it."_ The voice of the one Lutece echoed in your mind.

You thoughtlessly wander through the light into this new "world" and to the spot where the girls are. You felt something bump into your leg. You looked down and saw a man submerged in the water. Panic set in as you frantically grab the drowned man's arms and with adrenaline-fueled strength, pulled him out of the portal and into your apartment. The light behind you faded, but you paid it no mind, there was an unconscious man on your floor now.

Your nurse training kicked in, quickly you tore open the soaked shirt and pressed your ear to his chest.

His pulse was faint and weakening.

You immediately resorted to chest compressions, counting to yourself "one, two, three, four…" all the way up to thirty. You pinch his nose and move to do a rescue breath. But before you even tilt his chin up…

_Guh-HAHCK!_

He rolls over and coughs up a good bit of water and passes out. You checked his pulse again, this time it's stronger and a little faster than normal—probably from that sudden outburst. You jumped up and ran to your bathroom, collecting all your towels and covering the now shivering man in them.

With that all done, you tiredly trudged back into bed.

"Some dream…" You yawn to yourself as you fell back asleep.

* * *

So, how'd you all like it?  
Don't worry, there will be action and violence!  
And fluff! Lots of fluff!  
Comment, rate, review~

Note: No, I am not abandoning GaR if you are reading that too. There's just a severe lack of DeWitt x Readers. And this will update a lot slower than GaR since thats first on my priority list.

Booker, the Lutece twins, Columbia (c) Irrational Games  
Story (c) me


	2. Strange Men and Sweet Rolls

I might be taking a little Hiatus with Ghosts just to get this started. I'm not abandoning Ghosts. Oh no, its come to far. I just needed a change of pace for a few days. Enjoy!

* * *

Two questions cross your mind in the early hours of the morning. One, why were all your towels missing? Two, why is there a man passed out on your floor with said towels?

"…That wasn't a dream…" You state the obvious to yourself. The man groans softly and turns on his side, coughing a few times.

"What the hell…" He grunts painfully and sits up, rubbing the back of his head.

Your eyes widen and you step back, was that portal real? Did you really just take some man from an alternate dimension and drag him into your apartment? It makes your head spin just trying to comprehend it all.

The man looks up at you and shakily stands, he stumbles towards you, making you stagger back more.

"What…have you done…He'll come back! It'll just cycle over again!" Blood trickled down from the man's nose, "And what about this time? What if I run into the me of this time?!" He is speaking gibberish to you as he falls back on his knees, more blood flows from his nose.

"S-sir…You're…_bleeding_…" You take a step forward then feel a new presence in the room.

"Such an occurrence happens to one who crosses into a new time." The female Lutece states as she folds a towel over her arm, "The mind tries to piece everything together."

"But, this is what he wanted. A time with no Comstock. We wanted it too. The other girl held up her end." You can tell the male twin is not referring to you, "You see…"

"There never was a Booker DeWitt in this timeline." Both twins say in unison. This shocks the man as he gags and coughs up blood.

"What's going on?!" You nearly cry, stumbling over to the twins, "What do you mean 'timelines', who is this 'Comstock', this 'Booker DeWitt', what?!"

"I believe that he should tell you, when he's stable enough." The female mentions, hanging another towel, "But, you've played your current role well."

"I couldn't agree more, I do hope you play your other roles just as well." The other Lutece finishes with a smile. The duo stride past you, leaving without a sound.

You turn to the man, whom is trying to regain his composure now. He grabs one of the newly folded towels and wipes his face clean of the blood, staining your towel.

"Sorry." He apologizes curtly, "I should go—"

"Oh-ho…just you wait there." You cut him off, feeling slightly agitated from this sudden event, "Who are you?"

"Name's DeWitt. Booker DeWitt." You look him over. He definitely was not unfortunate looking, in fact you consider him to be rather attractive—besides the few bloodstains on his lapel. His eyes are a harsh shade of hazel-green; his messy brunette hair is pushed over to one side; his skin is tan and weather-worn. He's slightly broader than the average man; you can tell he's done things he regrets from the sadness behind his eyes.

"Nice to meet you Mr. DeWitt, I'm (name) (surname)." You hold out a hand, which he takes and kisses the back of your palm. You smile slightly.

"Now…If you would just excuse me, I have a trip to go on…To Columbia."

Booker's eyes widen and he steps back.

"Columbia?" He repeats.

"Yes. Why, is that a problem?" You face the mirror in your room and begin to brush out your (length) (color) hair.

"No. Not at all. I'll…Just go now. Sorry for intruding." Booker apologizes once more before finding his way out of your apartment.

You button up a simple cotton shirt and tuck it into your calf-length maroon skirt. You lace up your boots, pull a vest and jacket over your shirt, and rest a slightly oversized sun hat on your head. You grab your luggage and stuff the tickets into your purse.

You cautiously make your way down the stairs with your luggage in tow and into the lobby where you see some sort of commotion taking place.

* * *

"Tell me how you got in here." The landlord demands, staring down Booker from the front counter. Booker can only stammer, unsure of what to say. You find your neighbor watching from a distance and walk over to her.

"What happened?" You ask, although you're pretty sure what happened.

"This strange man just came down this morning…I've never seen him. He isn't causing trouble, but you know how the landlord is…" She trails off, a worried expression on her face.

Your landlord slams his hands on the counter and demands a reason for the stranger's sudden arrival again.

"He just got in last night!" You pipe up, pacing quickly next to Booker and wrapping an arm around his. You feel his muscles tense up at your touch. The landlord gives you a quizzical look and focuses on you.

"Oh? So why didn't you let him in through the front door?"

Booker looks at you as well, awaiting your excuse.

"It was very late sir, and I didn't wish to disturb anyone. So…I let him…through the…window." Your voice falters a little. You catch the ex-investigator wince as if to mentally face palm.

"Yeah…She did. Sorry about that." He adds after wincing.

"Sure…Well use the door next time."

You lead Booker away from the counter and pull him closer to your face by the collar of his shirt. He jolts back slightly from the motion.

"Look…I can't have you running around the city like a chicken with its head cut off…" You pull the extra ticket from your bag and tuck it in his palm, "So here, you'll come with me…"

"I'm 38…I don't need an escort." He scoffs and looks at the ticket. You just roll your eyes and leave him there while you go to say goodbye to your neighbor.

"He's quite the catch." She says as soon as you're in earshot, you instantly jerk your head back from her comment and exhale sharply. She smiles at your reaction and places her hand on your shoulder. You weakly return the smile and shrug off her hand.

"Don't worry about your room dear, I'll make sure no more men come through your window." She jokes; you just deadpan and turn on your heel back to Booker whom is now staring out to the street.

You place a hand on his back to grab his attention. He turns his head to you and raises a brow.

"We're going now." You pick up your bags and walk out the door, not waiting for him.

You hear him jog to your side to catch up, "I said I didn't need an escort."

A scoff passes your lips, "I never said I was your escort. You just decided to follow me." "_But it's not like I mind._" You finished mentally. Booker falls silent as if he was pondering something.

* * *

It's another beautiful day in the city. Children run across the street in a game of tag. Mothers hang their laundry from building to building. The warm summer air floats around you as the sun conquers the sky with not a cloud in sight. On days like this you can clearly see Columbia floating above the city. The sounds of the passing people hover in the air, filling the city with life. The scent of the bakery putting in a new set of loaves is intoxicating, your stomach growls angrily. Right, with all the chaos you hadn't eaten yet.

Apparently Booker heard this, "You hungry?" he asks. You nod and stare at the bakery across the street, noticing the baker's wife placing out a fresh tray of sweet rolls. Your stomach growls louder at the sight.

The war hero leaves you in the dust as he crosses the street to the sweet-smelling shop; you scurry after him and waltz into the building, the scent of those glorious sweet rolls only intensifying.

"Mornin'~" The baker smiles, "What can I get'cha?"

"A sweet roll please." You order.

"Two actually." Booker interjects, pulling out his wallet. The baker just smiles again and places two sweet rolls in a bag, handing them over the counter.

"Four silver eagles please." He holds out a palm and your new partner places the exact change in the baker's hand. You shoot a glare at Booker and take the bag of rolls from him.

As you exit the shop with Booker you notice two all-too-familiar faces sitting at an outside table, but decide to pay them no mind.

"It's such a lovely day for such a lovely couple." You hear the baker's wife say as you pass her, you notice Booker glance around to see whom she was referring to.

"You have to love when the ignorant state the truth." Rosalind comments just loud enough for you to hear.

"You mean, _will be_ the truth." Robert corrects his sister, equally as loud.

You pick up the pace to get away from everyone.

* * *

The dock for Columbia is a literal dock off the edge of a cliff. You watch as people bustle back and forth with their luggage, boarding or leaving their flight. Conductors shout commands to other conductors as the next airship gets ready to take off. The pace picks up as people frantically cram into the cabin. You laugh at how they swarm like angry hornets onto the aircraft.

"Next flight isn't for another hour." Booker declares walking up next to you, "I doubt we'll make this one."

You mutter a "yes" and nod, watching the large balloon drift up and away slowly towards the floating resort. It wasn't long now.

The two of you decide to finally dig into those sweet rolls you purchased from the bakery. Finding a shady tree, you set your luggage aside and sit on the grass. Booker takes a seat across from you and digs out a roll, holding it out to you.

"Y'know…I could have paid." You take the roll and feel that it's still warm. The baked dough is soft and moist; the icing slowly drips onto your fingers as you bring the pastry to your lips, inhaling the sickeningly sweet mixture of cinnamon, honey, and sugar.

"Think of it as thanks for…saving me." He mentions, taking his own roll from the bag and biting down into it.

"Oh…you're welcome." You don't realize how hungry you are until you have a chunk of roll, hanging disgracefully from your teeth after taking such a large bite. Your face flushes in embarrassment as you face the dilemma of whether to pluck the excess dough from your teeth or attempt to stuff it in with the rest. You snap your head to the side and push the dough into your cheek, its warmth filling your mouth as you sigh contently.

Booker snickers and you glare at him, ready to retort, but remember that your mouth is full. He holds out a flask to you, "Here. I think you need this." He laughs. You greedily grab the flask and take a swig, probably as ungracefully as possible. It isn't until it's too late you realized what you just drank. A sudden burn stings your throat as you cough violently.

"W-whiskey?!" You sputter.

"Well what else?" The ex-investigator shrugs and takes a drink.

"Yes, what else would it be?" Robert and Rosalind chime as they stroll up to the tree.

"_I'm getting really tired of these two_." You growl internally.

"Are you two getting along?" The female twin coos, twirling her parasol.

"I _told_ you she was the one." Her brother says with a smirk.

"Yes yes. And you will tell me a million and three more times." Rosalind huffs as she saunters away.

"Sorry about that. She gets a trifle ruffled when she's wrong." Robert seemed to chuckle, following his sister into the distance.

Booker looked off at the horizon, deep in thought. You finish your roll in a few bites and wipe your fingers on your handkerchief. You could still hear the chatter from the docks. A cheerful sparrow hopped across the healthy green grass, occasionally pecking at the dirt. You watched the small bird chitter gleefully before taking flight.

"So, tell me, how old are you (name)?"

You make a small exclamation in shock and place a hand to your collar bone, "Excuse me?!" you gasp.

"Just a question…" He mutters, looking over at the dock now.

"I'm thirty three…" You grumble.

This catches his attention, "Really? I wouldn't take you for a day over twenty-nine. You look young for your age."

"Thank you." You stand up and brush off your skirt, grabbing your bags, "The Airship should be here soon. Let's go."

* * *

Ah yes. Fluff.  
I need sleep.  
Not much to say here.

Comment Rate Review

-Ryzi


	3. Carepackages and Carnivals

_A/N: _Okay. Last chapter for a while. Like I said before, I'm going to be very busy this coming week. SooooOOooo don't expect much (if anything) for like...a few weeks. Cauuuse I won't be writing at all.

* * *

The trip up to Columbia is taking much longer than you expect. The Airship moves at a snail's pace, but luckily there are a few things to busy yourself with. You open up one of your bags and pull out a small journal and pencil. You take a seat next to one of the windows and begin to write down the events of yesterday. You always had a thing about documentation. Keeping track of events for reference, in case you should need them for whatever reason. You describe the 'dream' you had, your meetings with the Lutece twins and how they seem to be following you, and Booker. You nearly took up the entire page describing him, you then read back over the page.

"He definitely is a strange fellow." You close the journal and look over at him while he idly talks to a few other citizens. Booker catches your gaze and cracks a smile.

"This is a life I think I can get used to..." He says as he approaches you and sits, "It's a lot better than the othe-Ah shit..." he curses and wipes away the blood that drips from his nose.

You look intensely at him, evaluating what lie behind his eyes. In a moment you shift back and slightly cock your head, "You were a gambler." You state. Booker looks at you with surprise and scoots back.

"How do you figure that?"

"I can see it in your eyes. I've seen men like you Booker. Men who lose it all. Men who've left a red trail. Men who've tried to fix it." Your sudden outburst has an impact on the man next to you, "I'm right. Aren't I?" He doesn't answer and looks away.

"That doesn't matter." He grumbles.

"_I was right._" You think and sigh, "I suppose not, sorry."

"No. It's fine (name), your perception is pretty amazing though."

It quickly grows silent between the both of you. You twiddle your thumbs and whistle a soft tune, hoping to pass the time quicker. This airship couldn't move any slower now. You watch the other guests happily converse with one another as you and Booker sit in an awkward silence.

"What about you? Surely since you can tell so much from just my expression means you had to be in my position once." You snap your head up and face the ex-gambler.

"That doesn't matter." You quickly retort. Booker nods his head up and purses his lips, obviously dissatisfied with your reply.

"We have reached Columbia." The conductor announces, you hop up and grab your bags then rush to the doors to avoid further confrontation.

* * *

Columbia is more beautiful than you ever imagined. The skyline seems to kiss the heavens, you notice a small group of people fly through the air on a rail, entertainers sing and dance around the docks, vendors sell a variety of items each with their own individual smell, and a large blip floats by advertising the 10 year anniversary of the resort. Your jaw drops as well do your bags, it's simply too much to take in. You run over to the railings and peak over the edge, staring at the city below and how small it looks.

Childlike curiosity fills you as you pick up your bags and twirl to the center of the resort city. "This is amazing!" You squeal, holding your hat as a gust of wind blows past. It's something akin to a movie scene, a new city, new people, it's breathtaking.

"Hey! Slow down!" Booker calls out, "Careful out here...sheesh."

"...Ah yes, of course, I could get hurt from all this excitement." You reply sarcastically and roll your eyes with a groan.

"Real mature (name)."

"I know~" You smile and laugh, "Lighten up Booker. If you're going to just be a sour puss you can do it on your own time."

Now it's Booker's turn to roll his eyes and groan. You reach into your purse and pull out the certificate signifying your 'win'.

"Monument Hotel...Hm." You turn over the certificate to see a picture of a grand building with a large golden statue of an angel in front of it, "Looks really nice. Don't you think?" You hold the picture up to Booker, he nods and proceeds to look at the surrounding area. You stroll off towards the west, where a sign that reads "To Monument Hotel" hangs over the path.

(line)

"Now _this_ is a hotel." You mumble, staring at the grandeur structure. Each window has its own balcony where one could watch the city and drink their afternoon tea. The courtyard garden is in full bloom and butterflies dance around the delicate flowers. Hotel guests leisurely stroll about, making idle conversation to one another. You look over your shoulder and see Booker staring at the large, golden, angel statue in the center of the garden. You fall into step and pace over to him and look up at the statue as well.

"She's beautiful." You comment, looking over at your companion. Upon closer inspection you notice the way Booker has his hand pressed up under his nose to feign a look of thought when he is really holding back another nosebleed. His eyes flicker a deep sadness behind the hazel-green irises.

"I'm sorry Ana...Elizabeth." He whispers. You cock a brow and tap his arm, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Come on. I think you need this vacation more than I do." Booker nods slightly and follows you into the hotel.

The lobby is beyond gorgeous. The large crystal chandelier reflects the light from outside, casting small rainbows around the room. Every employees is kind and polite as they attend to all the guests. A few children prance across the polished marble floors after a toy. You waltz up to the front counter where a cheerful receptionist greets you. You hold out the certificate and she take it.

"Ah. Congratulations!" She holds out a key, "Fifth floor. I hope you and your husband enjoy your stay."

You hear Booker nearly choke after hearing the receptionist's assumption. You take the key and force out a smile.

"W-we will."

The two of you head to the elevator.

"Which floor?" The operator chimes and readies his hand at the lever.

"Five." You reply.

"Right-o! Floor five!" He salutes and pulls back the lever, sending the elevator up. After a minute or two, the elevator reaches the fifth floor. You and Booker step out and head down the hall to your room.

* * *

"...Man...It should be illegal for a bed to be this soft." You proclaim, face down in the plush blankets. You turn your head to Booker who is standing out on the balcony.

There is a knock at the door. You push yourself off the mattress and walk over to the door. You look out the peep hole to see a hotel employee standing at the door with a suitcase. You raise your eyebrow but open the door anyways.

"Can I help you?"

The young man just holds out the suitcase, "Y'forgot ya luggage ma'am." You hesitantly take the suitcase, feeling its sudden weight in your hands. What was in this thing? Rocks? The employee had already ran off by the time you bring yourself to ask him why he had this. You look at the tag.

_Property of Booker DeWitt_

"Booker? What?" You drag the suitcase to the middle of the room and place it on the coffee table, not wanting to open it. You walk out to the balcony where the ex-investigator is leaning on the railing, a smoldering cigarette crunched between his teeth as smoke floats from his lips. He scratches his chin and glances at you, his eyes flicker a bit in surprise from your sudden appearance.

"Hm?" He grunts and pulls the cigarette from his mouth, "What is it?"

"You...have a...package?" You point to the suitcase on the table. Booker cocks his head and leaves to investigate the strange package.

A set of hands close the balcony doors close in front of you. The Lutece twins stepping in front. You gasp and jump back.

"Agh...Stop that." You grunt, "How'd you even get here?"

"How did we not? " Rosalind smiled.

"You had something to do with that suitcase, didn't you..." You purse your lips.

"Just a care package. Don't be jealous, we brought you one too." Robert holds out a long wooden box with a gold name plate on top, it reads "Sky Hook" in embossed silver letters. You open the case to find some strange hook device. You take the device from its velvet bed and place it over your non-dominant hand, spinning the hooks with a pull of the trigger mechanism.

"Ah and I think you'll recognize these." The twins say in unison and each hold out a pair of throwing knives. Your eyes widen and grab the weapons, running your fingers over the hilts, feeling the intricate patterns impressed in the leather.

"I lost these years ago." You mutter.

"Or so you thought." The twins chuckle and vanish while you aren't looking. You look at your newly-acquired weapons and walk back inside.

Booker adjusts his suspenders then rolls up his sleeves on a new clean shirt. He pulls out his own Sky Hook and smiles, toying with the revolving hooks.

"So...You got one too..." You state, breaking his concentration.

"Means this isn't _just _a vacation (name)." He looks back in the suitcase and digs through its contents, his face falls at one particular object. You stroll next to him, look over his shoulder and snicker.

* * *

You had really outdone yourself this time. You mentally pat your back and wait outside the red and white striped tent. You weren't going to let some grim calling card from two strange gingers keep you from enjoying your vacation. The first place you wanted to go was Battleship Bay. How there is a beach and ocean in the sky is beyond you, but it is definitely a feat in its own. People splashed in the waves, children built sand castles on the shore, and some napped under oversized umbrellas.

"You could have just gone without me." Booker grumbles from inside the tent.

"I could have. But I didn't." You retort and play with the skirt of your jumper.

"Of all the places..." He begins.

"Oh hush you. Just come out." You cut him off. You can hear him audibly groan before pushing back the curtain. A snicker escapes your lips and you bring and hand to cover your mouth. Booker was standing uncomfortably in a Jantzen wool swimsuit with slightly obnoxious red, white, and blue stripes running horizontally around his body. The fabric stretches tightly over his abdomen, showing off the hints of defined pectorals and abdominals. A heated blush spreads across your face. You hear a small cluster of women comment on him as they walk by.

"Here, give me those." You take the bundle of clothes from the man, "You know. I would have just gone on my own eventually." You admit with a smirk.

Booker scowls at you and reaches for the clothes. You turn on your heel and dash to the water's edge, Booker chasing after you. He breaks into a full-out sprint and charges forth, you duck under his grasp and he trips into the pseudo-sea. You nearly fall over laughing.

"You're terrible." He coughs, trudging out of the water. You toss the clothing to the side and cross your arms with a smile.

"I know." You giggle. Booker draws closer to you and places a hand on your shoulder, his face twisted in a forced smile. His grip tightens and another arm slinks under your leg as Booker hoists you up and over his shoulder and tosses you into the water. You shriek from the sudden chill and jump up, kicking the icy water at him.

"Damn it! Stop that!" He growls and throws a handful of water at you. You leap at him and knock him into an artificial wave.

A shrill tweet stops the both of you. A police officer jogs up to the shore.

"Sir...ma'am...I'm afraid I have to ask you both to leave. Disturbing the peace and whatnot." He kneads his fingers. You simply nod and leave the water, not wanting to make a scene.

* * *

"...wow...You're...too good at this Booker." You comment as he shoots down the moving targets with amazing accuracy. Booker just grunts and pulls the trigger a few more times, taking out three more targets. The buzzer sounds and he puts down the air rifle.

By now the two of you had changed back into your regular clothes-much to your dismay. Booker suggested that perhaps strolling through the carnival would be tamer.

The ex-gambler doesn't react to your comment and strolls down the lane, you follow at a short distance, slightly distracted by the flashing lights and bright decorations. Stray balloons lazily float up and away into the twilight sky. A wave of melancholy washes over you. The day is ending and will soon be over. You pick up the pace and fall into step with Booker, he glances down at you then looks away.

A strange warmness fills your chest and heats your cheeks. It's nice to have a companion to spend the day with, you decide. It's better than being alone. You unconsciously shuffle a little closer to the man and inhale deeply. Even after a change of clothes and being shoved into the "sea", he smells faintly of tobacco and some sort of musky cologne. Your smile widens for a moment then fades into a somber frown.

"_Stop it (name). Don't grow too attached. Remember what happened last time._" You stroke your right side and sigh.

"(Name)?" Booker taps your arm.

"What? Oh...sorry, I...spaced out." You mumble.

A bell chimes, echoing around the city.

"It is now eight o'clock. Curfew will be taking effect in one hour. We hope you enjoyed your day." A male voice announces. Parents lead their children quickly away from the grounds. You and Booker share a look of confusion and shrug.

"Excuse me." He asks, approaching a guard, "What's this curfew?"

"Ah...Just a little something we implement for the..." the guard looks over his shoulder, "Younger crowd. Come back here at ten. Ah and...take this." the guard hands Booker two new tickets.

Booker returns to you and holds out one of the tickets.

"He said to come back at ten...What do you think it is?" He begins to walk towards the exit, you follow.

"Uh..." You look at the slip of paper, " 'The time of your life' well...that could mean anything."

With a burning curiosity inside, the two of you agree to investigate this after-dark attraction.

* * *

Ahhh yes. Some "fanservice" if thats what you can call it. 1900's swimsuits are so cute. Like, go look at them.  
I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

And I hope you drop a little note. I love reading comments and seeing what you all think of this!  
Love you all

-Ryzi


	4. Familiar Faces

_A/n:_ AHAHAHAH TAKE THAT SCHOOL! -kicks away all work-  
Wait -picks up work- I need this to pass.  
So how are you all. It's been a while.  
Enough about my life.  
Here's an extra long chapter.

* * *

"So (name) what do you think is involved in these 'after hour' activities?" Booker asks through the door as you freshen up in the washroom. You puff some powder on your cheeks before replying.

"I'm not sure, probably some burlesque shows, gambling, drinking, and all those naughty things you hide from the sun." You chuckle and adjust your corset, making sure it was comfortable enough to move in, but still retain a shape. You pull up a pair of black stockings and strap a garter around your (non-dominant) thigh, and then you slide the layered holsters for your knives over the strap. You reach for your knives, only to realize you forgot them out in the main room. You huff agitatedly and finish dressing yourself in a fine (color) gown.

You step out of the wash room and scurry over to the set of knives on the table, quickly picking them up and carefully placing them in their respective sheaths.

"Why do you have those?" Booker asks, startling you.

"…Just—"

"You've used them before." He cuts you off. You hang your head and sigh with a slight nod, "They're too sharp to be just for show. So why do you have them?"

You look at the war hero, thinking up a way to avoid the incoming conversation.

"Well you're awfully dressed up tonight." Your voice rises slightly as you change the subject, "Look at that, nice suit, shaven…" You squint and smirk a knowing smile, "You going to try and win big tonight?"

Booker gives you a deadpan glare, "Don't change the subject, look; if we're going to be working together we need some understanding of each other. You've already got the gist of my story down with just a look, but I need a little more than that from you."

Damn he's a tough one, "I'm a nurse." You state, but he just keeps his dissatisfied glare.

"Alright; if you can give me a better reason than the typical 'we're working together'—which I don't even recall this becoming some kind of job—then I'll tell you anything you need to know, alright?"

"Fine." Booker agrees and straightens his tie.

"_...close call._" You exhale and think.

* * *

The two of you head back to the boardwalk to find a new attraction set up. All of the vendors are still set up, but instead of games, there are side shows. Small performances put on by some sort of circus troupe. On one platform a woman strokes her long beard and braids it between her finely manicured nails. On another a man is juggling flaming axes on a unicycle. You wonder why these attractions are hidden from the day time, they seem harmless enough.

"Come...Come this way..." A voice beckons you to a tent, "Madam Fitzroy asks of you to come this way"

You notice Booker stop in his tracks and stare at the tent. He gulps and his hands tense into fists. He brings a hand to his head and groans, a drop of blood falls from his nose and he leans over with another grunt.

"I...I need to keep moving..." He huffs and paces further ahead, leaving you to only stare at the dark tent with a candle flickering above the entrance.

Curiosity strikes you and you wander in, instantly smelling the different incenses and candles that littered the room. It is dark and you can barely see in front of your nose, you outstretch your arms and try to feel around for a chair.

Two sets of hands push you down into a chair, you lash back but by then the hands are gone. A glimmer reflects off of a crystal ball and a face appears above it. Two dark eyes stare at you in the dim light, a shiver rolls down your spine.

"Welcome...To the tent of the Vox." The woman crows, her voice raspy and forced, "I am Madam Fitzroy."

You raise your brow and move to rise from your chair.

"Do not move! You must hear what I have to say." She waves her hands around the crystal ball and a small white portal opens inside of the sphere. Your eyes widen, it looks like the portal from before, but with a different image.

"Ahhh yes...I am seeing it...I see...two beings, a man and a woman, they are close in more ways than one, they are both so lovely. Ah yes? What is this?"

You focus your gaze into the crystal, trying to look through the portal, but the light seems to grow brighter and blinds you temporarily.

"THERE!" The "psychic" shrieks, "She loves him. Yes, this she does. And he...he loves her too. There's a room, a nice room. He's smiling, he says something and she smiles too."

Your eyes widen and one hand grabs your side and feel a phantom stabbing pain, you grit your teeth and hiss.

"But...what is this? There's an alley, an-"

"NO!" You cry in agony and thrash your arms across the table, sending the crystal ball across the room and shattering on the floor, the white light fades instantly. A second passes before you realize what you have done. You bring your hands up to your mouth and exhale sharply.

"I am so sorry ma'am..." You mumble, angered by your sudden outburst. You jump from your seat and back out of the tent. You trip on your skirt and nearly fall out onto the boardwalk, that is, when someone catches you.

"Whoop, can't have you taking a tumble in such a nice dress now can we?" Robert carefully pushes you back to your feet.

"Poor dear is scared." Rosalind wrapped an arm around yours and her brother took care of your other arm.

You stammered and tossed your head between the two twins who were sharing a look of pity at you as they lead you down the board walk. Guests laughed and shrieked at the side shows, women giggled like school girls at the men who were testing out their strength to show off, your head just kept spinning at the sights and sounds. The lights seemed to glow brighter and everything seemed to be getting louder as you came down from your panic attack.

"YOU SET THAT UP!" You growl as everything around you settles down.

"Shush. Don't make a scene. Last one that did that ended up nearly killing half this city." Rosalind scolded. You look up at her to see if she's joking, but her expression is as serious as ever.

"Besides, your next role is coming up. We had to prepare you somehow." Robert seems to laugh.

"I think we should have told her."

"Would she have had such a reaction then? Would she even believe us?"

"I suppose not." The female Lutece huffs and unlinks her arm.

A few feet ahead of you, you see Booker waiting in line to gain entrance into a large illuminated tent. The Lutece twins practically drag you next to him before vanishing off into thin air.

Booker looks down at you and smirks his usual grin, he appears a little more upbeat than normal, perhaps Columbia was starting to do some good for him. Upon closer inspection you notice a smudge of crimson lipstick on his collar and the light scent of floral perfume mingling with his strong musky cologne. A slight irritation burns inside of your chest and you avert your gaze.

"I was wondering where you ran off to." He comments.

"I could say the same about you." You grumble and twist your fingers together. Booker chuckles and tries to wipe away the makeup smudge.

A cheer uproars from the crowd as the tent glows brighter, a fanfare plays and a tall man in a top hat strolls out of the structure.

"Ladies and gentlemen! It is with my greatest pride and pleasure to say that the Cirque de la Utopia is open!"

The cheers grow louder as the guests bustle their way into the tent. As you draw closer and closer to the tent, a wave of unease washes over you. Your hands begin to shake and before you know it, you and Booker are at the front of the line. The man in the top hat greets you.

His appearance is that of a hard-working man. He is slightly stout and stocky, his moustache was waxed finely, and his eyes were dark and full of secrets.

"Jeremiah Fink..." Booker growls lowly. The man in the top hat tips his brim and flashes a smile.

"The one and only" He laughs, "Go on in! Have fun." Fink nudges you forward into the big top; you feel his eyes burrowing in the back of your skull.

* * *

"So…You know that man?" You ask after finding a seat in the stands.

"More or less…" Booker looks away, not wanting to pursue further conversation.

"_But…According to the twins…Booker never existed in this time…How would he know that man?_" You ponder. The tent begins to darken and the ambient chatter softens.

A spotlight shines in the center of the ring. Jeremiah Fink stands in the light and waves a hand.

"Good evening everybody." He announces, "I hope you're all well. As you all know, at the end of the week we'll be having a grand celebration for the tenth anniversary of Columbia!" The crowd cheers and hollers in excitement, "And that means our Cirque de la Utopia will be putting on an extra special shows all this week. Each one will be a chapter in our glorious story of Utopia and the climactic finale on Saturday! I hope you all enjoy!"

The ring falls dark once more. A soft murmur rises from the stands as fog starts to float across the ground. Four figures stand in the center ring and slowly disperse. The lights begin to brighten to reveal two couples dressed in rags. The couples tumble about, their faces twisted in agony. More actors join the dance, their moves are rather violent though as they seem to attack the couples. Drums bang and cymbals crash as the couples fight off the attackers. The main four huddle in a circle and hold out a miniature replica of Columbia. Coloured light fills the room and fog floods the ring as the set changes.

The two pairs are now in fancy outfits and stand in front of a gate with the name "Columbia" engraved across it. The gate opens and the group walks inside and the lights fade one last time.

It is silent for a moment, and then a thunderous applause erupts. Fink steps out into a spotlight.

"Thank you! Now, enjoy yourselves tonight." He motions to the other end of the tent and the guests all dash out, excited for a night of excitement.

* * *

"Well…that was…odd." You comment keeping your arm linked around Booker's in fear that the Lutece's might try and drag you off again, luckily the ex-investigator doesn't seem to mind all that much.

"Jeremiah Fink…" He mumbles again, "What? Oh, yeah." He snaps back to reality.

This new section of the boardwalk is brighter and louder as the lights draw in guest like moths. Men flock to the starting burlesque show and you roll your eyes. Booker starts to lead the two of you toward the building. You groan loudly, and let go of his arm.

"You can…go on without me." You suggest and step back.

"A'ya! Get outta 'ere!" A gruff man throws someone from the theatre , several other gather around as a fight breaks out.

"Or...I can save the show for another night." Booker scratches the back of his head and quickly strolls away from the scene. A part of you is relived.

You both continue your little venture down the boardwalk, taking in the sights and sounds. Your mind wanders around as you begin to recall the events from earlier.

"_He isn't all that bad._" You look up at the private investigator, he has a soft smile across his lips and a child-like glimmer in his hazel-green eyes, "_No, not bad at all. A little rough around the edges, but that's fine."_ Booker looks down at you. You shoot your gaze away and clear your throat.

"A casino..." You mention and point to the illuminated sign. A sensation stirs in your chest and your eyes widen. "_One night can't hurt_" You convince yourself.

* * *

A wild laugh escapes your lips as you pull back your chips from the pot, the surrounding men groan and leave the table. The dealer strides up next to you and holds out a wad of cash, you happily take the money and tuck it away in your purse before standing up and waltzing around the casino. It feels so great to gamble again, the disappointed looks of all the others as they toss away their earnings, the clatter of chips as you raise the pot higher and higher, the fluttering of the cards as they're passed out, and the sound of stunned silence as you win again.

You spot guests trying their luck over at the slots, you always hated those machines, they were programmed for you to lose. An amused smirk grew across your lips as you notice one man hit the jackpot. His face lights up as coins pour from the machine. You take note of his face and features, then at the people around him. He's not alone and he's not weak by the looks of it. Several other men around him look defensively at the crowd as he collects his winnings. You assume he's going to hit the card tables soon after.

"_...I need to be careful._" You remind yourself and look over to the observation deck for the races. There you see Booker hunched over the rail with a betting stub crushed in his hand. You saunter over to him and tap his shoulder. The gambler sighs and raises his head to look at you.

"Just a bad race." He says to you, sounding like he's trying to convince himself that fact.

"Of course it was." You coo, and place a hand on his arm, "Look, how about you take a break from the horses and head over to the tables, better luck there." Booker just nods and tears up his slip of paper.

You lead him to the table where you can see the slot machine winner is playing poker just like you had predicted.

"Booker, I need you to play guard for me. No questions, just do it alright?" You order and harden your (e/c) gaze into his hazel-green irises.

Your companion looks over at the same table then at you and nods. You approach the table and smile with a giggle.

"Evening gentlemen~" You nearly squeak, "Mind if I play a round or two?" A few of the men at the table must have recognized you from before since they almost immediately get up and leave. You mentally sigh, hoping that the others don't catch on. Luckily they don't.

You make sure your first few rounds are losses and have enough rookie mistakes to convince that you had never really played poker in your life, and after those rounds the other men left-probably fed up with dealing with you-leaving you and the man who won the slots.

"Are you sure you want to keep playing? It'd be a shame for such a nice young lady like yourself to go home empty handed." He remarks with a gross laugh, his "henchmen" laugh as well.

"Just one more game," You fake a yawn, "I gotta try and win once."

The man gives you a smug grin that reads "too easy". Your face falls into a stone cold stare at the dealer as he shuffles the cards. You close your eyes and smile, listening to the cards flutter across the green velvet and in front of you. You pick up the cards with no expression and begin throwing chips in the pot. 10...20...50...100...and eventually $500 before the man reveals his hand. A soft laugh huffs past your lips, he holds up a straight flush. You force yourself to frown and he smiles.

"Sorry miss, this game is reserved for winners." He laughs.

"I know." You flip your cards to reveal the highest hand, a royal flush. The man smashes his hands on the table sending chips flying. You jump out of your seat and run past the dealer, grabbing your reward. Booker follows after you out of the casino.

* * *

The two of you stop a few hundred feet away from the building and pant in exhaustion.

"What the hell was that?!" Booker coughs.

"Cheatin' that's what." An angered voice growls, the man from the slots and his flunkies surround the two of you. Your eyes widen as they back you both into an alley.

"Shit..." Booker curses and reaches inside his jacket and pulls out his pistol. The other men pull out their weapons as well. A passerby shrieks for the police and runs off, a shot fires and the battle begins.

The majority of the others have clubs and knuckle-blades, but the leader has a revolver. Booker charges two of the men and with amazing strength, knocks them back. You step a few feet back and trip over a large object. Two large objects in fact, two large boxes, _with a note_.

Please. Try and at least _be_ prepared. -Lutece

* * *

_A/N:_ So...I put WAY too much in here.  
And it was going to be longer.  
But that would have probably totaled to like...  
5000 words.  
How did you like it? Things are getting interesting.  
Very interesting.  
Oh and if you're wondering about Fink...You'll see...  
Comment Rate Review.  
(That means you too Ghost Readers)


	5. News and Nightmares

_A/N:_In which you and Booker are Bona Fide Badasses  
and Booker gets a history lesson.

Well, im actually ahead of schedule this time!  
I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

You quickly open the wooden cases to find the familiar Sky-Hooks from before. You slide the newer looking one on your arm and adjust the strap so that it's snug against your skin. You glance over at Booker who now has the slot-winner's arm pinned behind his back as he applies more pressure, earning a sickly crack as his shoulder is dislocated. The man drops his revolver and the chamber pops open, leaving a mess of bullets on the ground.

Booker hops back and kicks the man in the chest. You take this opportunity to dash to your companion and hold out the grappling contraption. The private investigator quickly equips the weapon and draws his own pistol.

"YOU HAVE A GUN?!" You shriek and kick up your leg, your pointed shoes digging into the underside of one of the attacker's jaw. The injured man flailed and knocked the pistol from Booker's grasp.

"Had a gun." He corrects and swings his Sky-Hook across the chest of a man with a knife. Blood and entrails splatter around the alley, ruining your dress entirely. You huff angrily and blow a stray strand from your hair.

"Blood doesn't come out of fabric!" You snarl and tear the skirt of your beautiful dress up far enough to reach your knives. One of the men advances towards you, and you make sure he regrets that decision by flicking one of your knives deep into his eye socket before impaling the hooks on your non-dominant hand into his throat. You pluck the knife from his eye and tuck it between your fingers, along with the three other knives.

"Okay...Two down...four to go." Booker exhales as he kicks another man in the side, sending him staggering your way. You swing your right leg around and feel your right side twinge and tighten, throwing you off balance and into the clutches of an especially beefy attacker. A vision passes in your mind and you stiffen up.

The man restraining you brings his knife to your side and you can almost feel the smile on his face, he must have seen you falter.

"Off her!" Booker demands then fires his pistol between your captor's eyes. The man instantly drops you and falls to the ground. You stumble to the ex-Pinkerton's side and pant in panic, "C'mon, you'll be fine." He encourages and continues to skillfully finish off all but one of the men.

You regain your composure and sigh. A low groan catches your attention. The last man rises from unconsciousness and stares at the both of you. Booker raises his gun but you push the barrel down as if to say "I have this." Your companion courteously steps back and you smile. You have to regain some shred of dignity.

In one fluid movement, you arc your dominant arm and unleash the four aerodynamic blades into the attacker's chest. He howls in pain and stumbles back. You rush forth with your Sky-Hook in front, lodging in his skull, then your slide your arm from the device; the man falls to his knees. After a moment of preparation, you swing your leg straight up then down, kicking the Sky-Hook out and onto the ground, leaving a fountain of arterial blood spraying in the air.

The only thing Booker could do was stand there with his jaw agape and his eyes wide. You collect your melee arsenal and readjust your Sky-Hook.

"Holy shit..." He exhales.

"I saw it this way officer!" A feminine voice draws closer, along with the sound of an entire police force.

"Well...Time to go." Booker grabs your hand and leads the both of you to the Sky-Rail and away from the crime scene.

* * *

"Alright (name) you have some serious explaining to do." Booker scolds from the washroom, being the one on the worse end of the damage from the night's events.

"I uh...Uh..." You stammer as you remove your outer wear, down to just your corset and under dress. You feel a hot sticky sensation across your upper back that begins to dribble down your spine as soon as you unlace your corset, another stinging sensation is felt right above your tailbone,"Shit."

Your companion exits the washroom, now changed into some pajamas, the top few buttons un-done on the shirt on account that the top part was a smidge to small for his broad shoulders, "What? Did you say something?"

You couldn't help but stare, a hot blush spreads across your face and you turn and face the wall.

"(name)...You're bleeding pretty bad..." He mumbles.

"_SHIT. SHIT. SHIT."_ You curse mentally.

You hear the first aid kit unzip and you wince.

"No no...I'm fine Booker...I'm AUGH! OH YOU SONOFA-" You hiss through your teeth.

"Down girl, it's just some alcohol." Booker says calmly as he dabs gauze over the wound, "Hm...I see another tear a little lower...You might need to..." His voice hitches as he coughs, "Well..."

"I...No...No that's indecent. No." A few drops of blood hit the floor, "...Fine." You pull up your under dress to reveal another angry red laceration, looks like the alley brawl left you with your share of injuries. Your companion applies a whiskey soaked pad to the wound and you nearly cry in agony as the cut sends waves of pain through your nerves.

"There...was that so...What's this? Ink?" Booker rests a hand over a large scar on the right side of your waist. You jolt at his touch and spin around, but his hand lingers a few seconds longer than you would have liked.

"So what if it is?" You sneer.

"Alright (name). Poker witch from hell. Frisky fighter. Drawn-on dame. What the hell is going on? I demand an explanation. I think that's reason enough."

You take a seat at the coffee table and motion for Booker to join you. You knead your fingers together and exhale.

"Well..." You begin to relay the story.

* * *

You never really wanted to start gambling, but you seemed to have the natural talent for it. Able to hide your expression and scare others into submission. Every Saturday you would make your way into the casino and play round after round of poker until you had either won it all, or lost it all. But this small hobby soon grew into an obsession. You almost lived at the casino. Some of your remaining friends would beg you to get out and find a better hobby, find a suitor, anyone that could keep you from the chips and cards. But it was no use.

"The only love in my life is the dealer" you would reply.

Soon after, your friends left you. Your family disowned you. You were completely alone, and beginning to drown in debt. So, you did what so many addicts did before you and took out a loan, betting it away in an hour. But unlike others, you won it back, two times over. This rush was enough to keep you gambling for the next few years.

And then, you met _him_.

He was like no other man you had met. He held such an air of confidence, like he ruled the world, and you wanted to take that throne. So, you put on the usual act. Come to the table, lose a round or two, then take him for all he's worth. But, something went terribly wrong. You kept winning. He caught you in your act. You quickly left the table.

"Ah...Evening Ma'am." His voice was smooth like caramel as he snaked a hand around your waist, "I uh...noticed your skills. I was wondering if you would...work...for me...I can't hit every casino it town ya know?"

"And what if I don't?" You retorted. The man brought a pistol to your jaw.

"Oh...You must~"

Years passed, and you soon realized that you were better off dead. The man you were forced to work for was a big time loan shark. And he had adversaries all around the city, hell, the state probably. And the longer your worked for him, the harder and harder if was to try and leave. He taught you everything you knew about fighting, and reading faces. And eventually you had fallen for his charms. You became another victim. You had spent so many nights with him, screaming his name into the early morning hours. But he grew tired of you. You were nothing but something to pass the time. So one day you decided to take your business elsewhere.

Months after you left, you had created your own little ring of con artists that claimed to be your "friends", but then your past decided to catch up. You had recently loaned out a good $1,000 to a man with a losing streak like none other. And when you went to collect the payment. There he was. That man with the smooth voice.

"Evening (name)." He didn't sound too happy to be there.

"Oh, you _do_ remember me." You sneered.

The next you knew a knife was carving into your side, and if it weren't for the police, it would have killed you.

* * *

"And after I got out of the hospital, I moved, became someone who saves lives instead of ruins them, and left a permanent reminder to never...'Get in over my head'." You lift your dress to reveal the palm-sized scar on your side, with the words 'Stay out of the water' beautifully written in calligraphy over the lighter patch of skin.

"Wow...Uh...Sheesh..." Booker nervously rubs his neck.

"Yeah."

There is an awkward silence between you both.

"I'm...going to...Change." You collect your sleepwear and head into the washroom to change.

* * *

It couldn't have been later than...Booker looks over to the clock on the wall, one in the morning. The ex-Pinkerton lay awake in his bed and sighed. It was only the first day in Columbia and he was already in enough trouble like last time. Another sigh escapes his lips and he swipes a hand over his face. Booker rises from his bed and stumbles out into the main room, grabbing his carton of cigarettes and his lighter. He opens the door to the balcony and leans over the railing, staring out into the dim lights of the flying city, the full moon washing the buildings in a cool light. The gambler lights his cigarette and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply and smoothly breathes out the bitter smoke into the night air.

"Grand night for a storm." Robert chimes in a whisper as he and his sister take their seats at the small table on the balcony.

"Oh. You two." Booker mumbles, not looking at the twins.

"What? Did our little turn-about girl scare you?" Rosalind coos and stares off into the sky.

"_Our_ turn-about girl? How about _my_ turn-about girl. After all, _you_ did not believe me about her." The male Lutece comments bitterly.

"Can you both just...go? I don't have time for this." The weary gambler yawns and takes another drag.

"Why? Is it because...You see yourself in her?" Both twins ask. Booker's eyes widen a fraction.

"Or perhaps. A _better_ version of yourself." The twins seem to taunt in unison.

The private investigator scoffs and flicks away the smoldering ashes at his fingertips. His thoughts recollect to the story you wove for him and he plays back every detail. You are-no _were_-like him. Both of you had lost something precious, dug your own graves, but unlike him, you got out. Booker slumps over farther and disposes of his cigarette.

"When two constants are introduced, the only outcome..." Robert smiles.

"Is a variable." Rosalind finishes. And with that, the time wandering twins vanish.

A low cry resounds from inside the suite, one that becomes more and more pained sounding. Booker instinctively turns on his heel and begins to investigate the large suite. The crying coming in muffled sobs from behind your door. For a few moments he debates mentally whether or not he should enter.

"N-no...no...let go..." Your breathy sobs become frantic, as if you're struggling. Booker charges into the room, to find you thrashing about on the bed, as hot tears roll down your cheeks. He steps closer to find you still asleep.

"(Name)...(name)...it's just a dream..." The gambler places his hand on your shoulder and you instantly freeze, a sensation of warmth fills you and you relax. He watches as your face untwists from its pained state and even breaths escape your slightly parted lips. Booker looks over you once more. Something about your calm expression seems so inviting. He nervously licks his lips and feels himself drawing closer.

"No...dammit what am I doing." The green-eyed man hisses and leans back, trailing his fingers down arm as he leaves. Your fingers twitch against his when they meet, as if to say "Thanks".

"Yeah..." He mutters and leaves to his own room where he collapses on the blankets and falls asleep.

* * *

SO, you learn your history.  
Beat up some jerks.  
And get comforted by a mass murdering Pinkerton.  
All in all, a good evening.

OH! and if you aren't already~ Go read Mothra's

a href=" /works/1420876/chapters/2985694" Songbirds Calling while Angels are Falling/a

So amazing

See ya later sweet potaters


	6. Storms

The sound of booming thunder wakes you from your deep slumber. A flash of lightning illuminates your room and you wince at the sudden brightness. You turn to the clock, it's six in the morning. A groaning yawn escapes your lips and you stretch, feeling the injuries on your back ache in defiance. You hiss in pain and fall back onto the mattress. Another crash causes you to cringe from the excruciatingly loud noise. Storms up in the sky seem a lot more violent than back on the ground.

You achingly pull yourself out of bed and stumble out of the nice bedroom, following the faint scent of coffee coming from the main room. There you spot Booker relaxing on the plush couch with a cup of coffee in his hands and a cigarette hanging from his lips. He shoots you a sideways glance then immediately looks away and pulls the cigarette away, exhaling a puff of smoke.

"Morning." He greets and takes a sip of coffee. You just nod and stagger to the double doors that lead to the balcony.

"Ah, I wouldn't if I were you." Booker suggests, "Hell of a storm out there." You rest your head on the doors and yawn again, still not fully coherent.

"Glad t'see ya such a m'rnin' p'rson." You slur and push yourself away from the closed doors. The ex-Pinkerton chuckles and sets down his cup. He casually walks over to you and leads you back to the couch, pressing you to take a seat. You nearly flop over onto your side but Booker stabilizes you and hands you his coffee. Without much thought, you bring the cup to your lips and take a generous gulp of the caffeinated liquid, your (color) eyes shoot open from the sudden heat filling you and the bitter taste on your tongue.

"Bleh!" You splutter and harshly slam the cup on the table, "It's black!" You ungracefully stick out your tongue as if it was going to get rid of the acidic taste any faster.

"At least it woke you up." Booker laughs harder and extinguishes his cigarette in the ash tray. You shoot him a furious glare and huff, not too pleased with how the morning is going, "Now. About that Cirque...if Fin-"

"Hold it there DeWitt." You cut him off, "It's miserable out there, I ache all over, it's only been one day, and you want to focus on a group of carnies and a fat man with a moustache? How about this? The rain isn't letting anyone go anywhere, I think we do the same. I mean look at me. Hell, look at _you_. You look like you got trampled." You motion to the swollen bruises on his cheek and arms, "One day won't make a difference. I'll even cut you a deal. If it stops raining, we can go investigate. Happy?" You sink back into the couch with an annoyed huff and cross your arms. Booker looks at you stunned and sighs, already knowing you had made up your mind.

The ex-Investigator purses his lips and exits the suite, angrily cursing something under his breath. You lean back farther on the couch and scowl at the door.

"He's a stubborn one." You hiss and rub the sleep from your eyes.

"Couldn't have said it any better myself." Your head whips to the side to find Robert sipping tea in his own chair. You scowl and frown at the man.

"What do _you_ want?" You ask bitterly. The male Lutece's lips turn up in a slight grin and he sets his tea on the saucer in his other hand.

"Looks like you'll have to improvise this one." He smiles.

"What? Improvise? Where's the other one of you?" It's too early for you to even coherently think.

"She really hates storms."

"I would too up her-"

"But not for the reason you're thinking." The ginger cuts you off and rises to his feet, "Oh and I'd advise you put on something more..._appropriate_ for this weather. Perhaps trousers, and that Sky Hook."

You scrunch your face in slight disgust, such a crude comment from such a refined looking gentleman.

"Why I nev-"

"And you never will have to again." Robert taps a finger to his cheek and strolls to the balcony doors. He flicks the latch and the doors fly open from the strong gale. Rain pours in and fog billows and vanishes. The male Lutece waves a parting gesture and disappears into the raging storm.

You sit in silence for a moment, knowing that you'll inevitably be out in that terror of a weather pattern.

* * *

"_All I wanted was a vacation. That's all. A nice week away from work._" You remind yourself mentally, "_But do I get that? No! I just had to save him. Just HAD to. Now I'm out here in this god forsaken storm in MEN'S clothes. MEN'S CLOTHES for God's sake! What is this world coming to?!_" You take temporary refuge under an awning and look at the area around you. Off in the distance you could make out the light from the gondola to Battleship Bay where the boardwalk was, and where the Cirque would be.

Sheets of icy rain drench your clothes and you shiver violently, oh you were going to make Booker pay for having you come after him. Lightning ripples across the clouds, a few stray arcs making contact with the lightning rods on the tallest structures. You jolt away from the building and sprint towards the gondola dock, only to find the transportation to be shut down. An angry growl escapes your lips and you thrash your arms around in rage. Now how were you supposed to reach Booker? You look down at the Sky Hook on your (non-dominant) arm and then up at the Sky Rail and exhale a knowing sigh.

You take a few steps back then dash forwards and hurl your weight over the edge of the dock and feel the Hook's magnetic pull attract to the Rail and send you speeding to the sky-ocean.

Rain pelts against your skin like pebbles, leaving small stinging welts on your cheeks. But that is the least of your worries, the storm seems to reach its peak as lightning arcs around you, heating the air and leaving your hair on end. A deep fear of being electrocuted wells up inside and you pray that you'll reach safety before lightning strikes the rail.

Soon you see the hazy lights of the boardwalk and decide it's time to depart the Rail. And just in time too. As soon as your feet ungracefully skid across the soggy boards another electric arc strikes the Sky Rail above you, scaring the living daylights out of you.

"Too close..." You exhale and press on down the boardwalk.

* * *

You pace for another ten minutes before hearing a blood curdling scream coming from the alley a few feet ahead. All sense leaves you and your feet pick up the pace, leading you to a gruesome sight.

A large owl-like monster looms over a fallen Booker who's bleeding profusely. The creature is obviously a man-made mechanical beast, the way it creaks and groans like aged metal as it raises its bladed arm back to finish off your friend.

Without thinking you charge the owl animatronic and heave your weight against it, realizing how incredibly light the being is. From inside you hear several cogs clatter around and the mechanical creature staggers away. You raise your Sky Hook and catch it on the owl's blade, tearing it from its arm and tossing it aside. The monster groans again, its glowing eyes focusing on you.

"_Good...Get away from Booker you bastard._" You command mentally and step back, drawing the machine towards you and out into the open. The air around you grows hot with static and you feel charges building around you. For a moment you're still as a statue as the owl thrashes its arms up. You throw yourself back and curl up on the ground as soon as the static in the air breaks and a large arc of lightning strikes the toy-like machine. Upon impact the animatronic falls to the ground in a steaming mess, no longer moving.

After the initial shock you rise up and run to Booker who is now struggling to stay awake and out of hemorrhagic shock.

"Shit...Shit..." You swear and un-tuck the oversized shirt from your trousers and tear off the excess fabric. You then proceed to tightly wrap each wound as best as you can.

"Booker? Booker! You gotta stay with me okay?!" You demand frantically and pull his arms over your shoulders.

With some quick thinking, you wriggle your arms through the harnesses of his shoulder gun holster and tear the lower hem of your shirt, tying it around both your waists, and then raise your Sky Hook up to the Rail, toggling on the magnetism and sending both of you on your ways to the hotel. As you speed along the Rail, you keep praying for your companion to be safe.

A small stationary hook comes into view, its green light like a beacon of safety. With a sharp inhale you launch to the hook then dismount onto your balcony where you fall into the room and curse a string of swears loud enough to probably wake up the entire floor. But there's no time to think about management knocking down your door and demanding an explanation as to why you profanely woke up the entire fifth floor. Oh no, you have a bigger problem at stake.

* * *

"This is getting old Booker." You hiss and untie the harnesses, carefully lowering the bleeding man to the floor. You leap up and grab every cushion, blanket, towel and pillow you can find in the suite and surround him in a downy nest of plush warmth. Quickly you dig through your suitcase and find the first aid kit you carry everywhere. You re-evaluate the damage, noticing several lacerations in need of stitches. His breaths become shallow and he shudders as his skin grows slightly colder. Choking back a sob you pull a needle from your bag and thread it. With trembling fingers you begin to suture the deep slashes, noting the agonizing look on Booker's face.

"It'll be fine...I promise...Hold on..." You whimper, desperation lacing your voice.

After stitching every cut you move to the shallower abrasions and within moments you've rewrapped Booker's wounds and are perched by his side, rechecking his vitals every minute or so. Nothing seems to be changing though. Tension builds in your stomach and you feel stray tears roll down your cheeks. You cover the ex-Pinkerton in the blankets and exhale shakily.

"Ow..." Booker groans and slowly opens his eyes.

A mix of emotions run through you and you place a hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth returning to him. A smile cracks your worried visage before you swing a palm across his face with a loud '_SMACK!'_

"What the hell was that for?!" He crows and brings a hand to his stinging cheek.

"For being reckless! Is this how you handle things? Throwing yourself into danger? You'll get killed! This is the second time I've saved you Booker DeWitt!" Your words spill at a mile a minute as well do your tears.

Then, something you would never expect in a million years happens.

With all his strength, Booker sits up and pulls you into a tight embrace. For a moment, everything seems to stop.

"Thank you." He exhales. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his shoulder, losing all composure, and losing the strange sense of fear you had developed.

But, what was there to fear?

Death? Loneliness?

Yes, that one had to be it.

* * *

_A/N:_So I was super nervous about this chapter.  
But I needed to open the story a little more and what better way to do that than almost kill Booker?

Rate and Review

I love reading what you have to say!

See ya later sweet potaters


	7. Caramel

_A/N:_ Sorry for the delay. I had a really really bad week or two.  
So here's a life update as to why I haven't updated.  
As you all may or may not know, I've now graduated High school.

Well, I thought I would have a lot of free time.  
But as life would have it, I now work two jobs.  
I mean yay, money. But for the first week of balancing the two, I was severely anxious and losing all motivation.  
(like I almost dropped this story and wanted to give up)  
But I'm back and feeling a lot better.  
I'll try to update faster, but with my new schedule, I'm not sure how much time I'll have.  
But thank you all for being so awesome!

And shout out to Nyxcatti for starting up her own Booker x Reader.  
Go read her story a href=" /works/1756935/chapters/3755691""Making Memories Where None Exist"/a  
It's so amazing!

* * *

You didn't realize you had fallen asleep until you had woken up again to the sound of slight snoring right in your ear. You slowly open your eyes with a groan and wipe the sleep away from them once again. You look around slowly as you regain your vision. A loud snort catches your attention and you jolt, a pair of arms tighten around you. You twist your neck to look up and see Booker sleeping fitfully with you nestled in his arms like some sort of security blanket.

You begin to mentally debate whether or not to wake him up or just stay there and enjoy the warm feeling racing through your veins. It had been so long since you had felt this way. Your breath hitches and you resettle your head on his chest . A small smile graces your lips as you listen to his healthy and stable heartbeat.

"_What are you doing (name)?_" You mentally slap yourself "_You aren't even in a relationship with this man. Hell, you've only known him for two days. Don't be so indecent!_"

The body under you shuffles and sits up, still holding you in his arms. You freeze and stare wide-eyed at the groggy Booker, whom is still holding you with one arm as he uses the other one to swipe over his face. His forest-green gaze lowers to your (color) one and he blinks a few times.

Your face heats up and you attempt to stammer out a sentence, but only end up making a further fool of yourself.

"Ah, sorry about that." Booker mumbles and lifts his arm off you and allows you to remove yourself from his person. However you just awkwardly squirm away and rise to your feet.

"Are those _my_ clothes?" He asks and squints as he rubs out a knot in his neck.

You nod and pick at the ragged shirt that hangs damply from your frame. The ex-Pinkerton laughs hard and holds his stomach in slight discomfort from the stitches. Your embarrassed expression quickly turns to one of fury and you weakly kick Booker's leg.

"Don't laugh at the lady who just saved your life again!" You huff and kick him again.

"Ah-hah. Ahh, sorry 'bout that. It's just..." He snickers and brings a hand to his mouth, you stare daggers at him, "never mind."

A moment of mildly aggravated silence passes before you speak up, "Look, now that you're really injured, I would tell you-as a nurse-that you shouldn't even be moving."

"Yes yes, as a _nurse_. But what about as someone else?" Rosalind's voice calls from behind, you spin around with a yelp and furrow your brows.

"Yes, but who are you telling him as?" Robert seems to mock, "After all, you haven't a lot of time."

"Another role will require both of you to play your parts _alive_ and well."

You roll your eyes and look back at Booker, "But as your fri-_partner, _I admit this is growing more and more suspicious, so you'll need to be on your feet soon." You can almost feel the bemused looks on their faces as they smile smugly and glance at each other.

The ex-investigator waves a hand and shakily rises to his feet with a long pained groan. He stretches out his arms and hisses in pain.

"I say we investigate the hotel until the rain passes..." Booker grumbles.

"Alright." You look behind you to see the twins gone again.

"(name)?"

You hum softly and look at your companion.

"I need my clothes back."

"...right."

* * *

The first place you and Booker "investigate" is the restaurant that's connected to the hotel. Sitting at the oversized booth, you carefully cut up the French toast on your plate and bring a piece to your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you track the passing patrons and check for any suspicious activity.

"Well...nothing seems to be out of place by the bar." Booker sits across from you and prods at his omelet ; cutting it apart with his fork.

"Of course, it's only ten." You take a sip of your tea.

"You can't be too sure with men like Fink."

"What is so wrong with him anyways?" You lean closer to him over the table.

" 'es a snake in the grass. Mind your voices here." A new voice hisses and sits next to you. You look over to see a dark-skinned woman with braided hair under a large sun hat that obscures most of her face. The majority of her skin is covered in clothing and she tilts her head towards you.

You recognize her dark eyes to be the ones of Madam Fitzroy from your first night on the boardwalk.

Booker tenses up and nearly drops his fork.

"I can't stay long...but..." The dark-eyed woman pulls out a small note from inside her jacket and slides it to you, "Find the boiler room and show the man there this card. Come by at three." And with that, Daisy shuffled out of the seat and scurries from the premise. You blink confused and look at the card. It's blood red with the word 'VOX' scrawled out in black ink.

Your partner huffs and brings his fork back to his lips. You just cock your head and shrug, not wanting to pursue the topic on Booker's relation to all the strangers you were encountering.

* * *

After finishing your breakfast-and after a small debate on who gets to pay-you and Booker continue your minor investigation of the Monument Hotel and begin taking note of landmarks in the event something should happen while the two of you are searching. As the two of you walk, you make seemingly idle chit-chat to lower any suspicions the other guests may have.

"So...You never told me how you know Fink, and what's so wrong with him?" You inquire.

"Ah...Well let's just say, where I was from, he was trouble." Booker looks you in the eye, his own reflecting that Fink was just more than trouble. You nod slightly in understanding then turn your attention to large glass wall next to you that allows guests to view the recreation room.

You stop for a moment to watch as some guests toss around a ball, two men boxing for sport (and to show off in front of the ladies), and children playing tag. A smile crosses your lips and you keep watching everyone enjoy themselves. Your gaze shifts to the men boxing and watch as one delivers a harsh blow to the other's stomach . The stronger man flexes his arms and smirks at one of the women, but she just looks over at the downed man. The victor steps off the mat and something in his face sets an alarm off in your mind.

Without thinking, you casually walk into the room, leaving Booker behind. You strut up behind the small group of women who are now fawning over the stronger boxer to watch what could unfold.

"-Ay, ay, he's just outta breath dearie, don't be such'cha worrier over the little things." The man drapes his arm over the uncomfortable woman. His voice almost sounds like a forced accent to you.

"...it's just...did you have to hit him so hard?" The woman mumbles and looks away.

"Ay he got a lil' in over 'is 'ead. Now, don't worry."

The other boxer slowly got up and staggered around then away.

"See? Fine." By now the other ladies had left to do other things. The nervous woman nodded meekly and anxiously twiddled her fingers, "What? Still nervous? I got a solution just for that." the man strokes her cheek and turns her face to his.

The woman's face grows bright red and her eyes grow wide in fear as she tries to scoot away, but the man grabs her arm and keeps her by him. You feel the need to intervene.

"Excuse me." You cough, moving up to the pair, "Would you mind letting my friend go?"

The man looks at you, his amber-like eyes sparking something under your skin. He looks so calm and collected that he's obviously hiding something behind his face. He raises a brow, as if expecting you to speak further. But when you try, you find no words to say, like he had taken them with a look.

"Ah, (name) there you are." Booker calls warmly from behind and snakes a hand around your waist, you do your best to not jump out of your skin at the sudden contact, "Sorry about that sir, she tends to get her nose in other people's business."

"Yes, well, keep 'er on a leash. "The way he spoke sent a shiver through your veins, but you couldn't put a finger on it. Your companion's hand tensed in anger. The woman looks at you both with a desperate gaze that reads "Help".

"Excuse you?" Booker snorts and tightens his jaw.

"Look, all's I'm sayin' is y'shouldn't let a woman get so outta hand."

Both you and Booker are furious. The woman frantically looks around with her fearful eyes as the man tugs her closer to his side forcefully. Out of sheer panic she stomps her heel against his foot, causing him to let go, and her to stumble away a little. The man swings his arm at the brave woman, about to striker her hard, when you bring your own hand down on his wrist. He grunts and grabs you by the collar with one hand and you grab his wrist again. The amber-eyed man cracks a smirk.

"Oy! Get 'way from me y'whore!" He screams and jerks you back, "Don't 'cha know t'leave a married man alone?!" You stumble back and look around at the scene being caused. Booker places a hand on your shoulder and you look up at him. A deep rage burns behind his normally stoic eyes. He shrugs off his coat and holster in your arms and rolls up his sleeves.

"B-Booker, don't make a scene." You whisper, bunching up the fabric in your hands, but the ex-Pinkerton ignores you and grabs the malicious man by the shoulder and swings him around.

"What gives you the right to insult my _wife_ like that? Better yet, insult any woman like that?"

Your face heats up, "_Did he just refer to me as his WIFE?_"

"Ahah! Women are s'posed to be 'bedient . Not loose and rowdy." The man crosses his arms, "Was just remindin' her of 'er place." He laughs, "Am I right?" Some other men call out in agreement.

You stare daggers at the man then look at Booker who looks ready to explode.

In a flash, Booker's fist connects to the man's nose, earning a satisfying crunch. The amber-eyed man staggers back and the crowd gasps, drops of blood hit the floor.

"Y'bastard!" He howls and throws his arms in a haymaker attempt which Booker blocks and swings his own fist into his opponent's solar plexus.

While Booker occupies himself with putting the amber-eyed man in his own place, you scurry over to the other woman.

"Are you alright?" You ask.

"Y-Yes...I'm fine...Are you?" She replies, you nod, "Good... he must have found out..." The woman tucks away a bright red handkerchief into her purse.

"Found out what?" You look at her purse for a moment then pull the card Daisy had presented you earlier. The woman looks at the card and then at you.

"I'm with the Vox Populi. I see Daisy invited you to come by."

"Uhm...Yes..."

"Right, well I ought to be going. You and your husband are very brave, we need people like you." And with that, the woman quickly shuffles out of the recreation room. You look over to see a ring of people surrounding the new boxing match. You push your way through the crowd, praying that your partner isn't over exerting himself.

* * *

You watch as Booker receives a heavy fist to the jaw, then one to the shoulder where you remember stitching him. The ex-Pinkerton instantly drops to a knee and grabs his injured shoulder. You cringe and avert your gaze to his attacker who's now cocked back his foot and about to swing it forward. You try to scream, but find all sound trapped inside as the man thrusts his foot under your partner's ribs and into another set of stitches, sending Booker to the floor.

The crowd cheers for the amber-eyed man as he flaunts around, taking in all the glory.

"Ay yeah! That's right! 'e got what 'e d'served!"

The crowd disperses a few moments later, leaving you alone with the man and a downed Booker. You kneel next to your companion and help him sit back up.

"You know, for a girl who hates swimming, you're in some pretty deep waters." The amber-eyed man hisses in a voice so smooth. You freeze as he leaves the room. Booker tries to draw your attention, but you're too focused on that last comment. The ex-investigator looks into your fearful (color) eyes as you mouth one phrase, over and over again.

"A voice...like..._caramel._"

* * *

_A/N_:AhahA.  
So, I might have or have not used those two weeks to also stress over my plot.  
I re-wrote it. Like. 50 times.  
But once again, you are all so awesome.  
Thanks for stickin with this story and I hope you continue to enjoy.  
(new game, take a shot for how many times I cause Booker pain)

See ya later sweet potaters~


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